


The Last of Us

by edensgarden



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Apocalypse, Gen, Post-Apocalypse, Zombie Apocalypse, and now they're out there fighting for survival, but the boys from the aoba johsai volleyball club survived, in which a pandemic broke out before nationals and half of japan died within the first two years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:09:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25677112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edensgarden/pseuds/edensgarden
Summary: The outbreak of a deadly disease in which the brain is taken over by a virus ravages Japan and drives the dead against the alive.Who will survive?
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kindaichi Yuutarou/Kunimi Akira, Kyoutani Kentarou/Watari Shinji/Yahaba Shigeru, Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru
Comments: 9
Kudos: 49





	The Last of Us

**Author's Note:**

> I just finished playing the second part of The Last of Us and was inspired to write a little apocalyptic one shot with the Haikyuu guys and somehow this happened. It's my first time writing for this genre, but it was super fun and I will 100% write another zombie au story again!

A crow as black as the starless night sky croaked on a lamp post covered in moss, its beak moving from west to east to observe what had become of the city of lights. 

To observe what had remained. 

Nature had taken back what humanity once stole from her. She had reclaimed what belonged to her. 

Wild green grew from every corner of the street, taking ownership of any surface it could find, curling possessively over brick walls and countless abandoned cars littering the streets. 

The scent of damp weeds hung in the air, mingled with the prominent smell of death and every repulsive thing that came along with it. Graffiti had taken over the once crystal clean walls, messages to anyone who would care enough to bother reading them written sloppily on shattered windows. 

_‘THIS WAS HOME’_

_‘DEAD INSIDE, DO NOT ENTER’_

_‘THIS IS GOD’S PUNISHMENT’_

Kindaichi stepped closer to the building on his left, its windows broken and barely hanging on the frames. He gripped the gun in his hand tighter, gulping when he felt the threat of his heart wanting to jump out of his mouth. With narrowed eyes, he inspected the writing, his face twisting into a frown. 

“It’s blood,” he said as Kunimi joined him to his right, “I was wondering where they found all this paint to draw up these walls.” 

Kunimi sighed, the purple spots beneath his lids magnified by the shadows cast from the rooftop overhead. His hair was tied back in a messy bun, its slick strands hanging from all corners and edges as he dropped his voice solemnly, “Who knows whose blood that is?” 

“Who cares?” Kyōtani clicked his tongue behind them, the sound of his metal bat swinging in the air carrying through the wind, “We don’t have time to dawdle around. You know the orders: Go in, get the medicine, get out.” 

“Iwaizumi always makes it sound so easy. But how the hell are we going to find a pharmacy in this ghost town?” Watari scratched the back of his neck with a thoughtful look. 

“We just have to keep going. They’re counting on us.” Yahaba said matter-of-factly, one hand resting on the string of his bow, the other holding onto a map of the city they were currently in. “Looks like we’re going to reach a police station soon.” 

“We might find some ammo there!” Kindaichi said hopefully. 

“I doubt it.” Kunimi muttered under his breath, but his words were still caught by his friend. 

“Can you be positive, for like, once?” 

“Dude, the second an apocalypse breaks out, _everyone_ is out to find weapons for themselves. And where would they rush off to where they would find countless weapons?” 

“Police stations and gun shops.” Kyōtani answered for him, receiving a pointed look from Kunimi, as if to show Kindaichi the point he was trying to make. 

They continued to walk through the seemingly empty city, carefully avoiding the cracked asphalt and the pieces of rubble lying around. A comforting wind washed through them, pushing them forward into the unknown. 

Kindaichi felt his skin break out in goosebumps when cold air licked up his spine, his dirty hair dancing in the breeze stiffly. He stuck close to Kunimi, who kept his tired eyes focused on the side alleys, a machine gun nestled comfortably in both his hands. His shirt rode up from the wind, revealing a smooth expanse of rippled muscles that have built themselves over the past few years. 

Ahead of them was Watari, who peeked into the broken window of an abandoned car in hopes of finding something, _anything_ of use before he shook his head in disappointment and trudged back to Kyōtani, who kept fiddling with his bat in unease. 

_“Yo, found a pharmacy,”_ chimed a low voice from Yahaba’s pocket, static buzzing in between the words, _“Heading in now. Status update?”_

“Matsukawa!” Yahaba ripped his radio out in record speed, the other guys joining him with hopeful smiles, “Thank god. We’re good, we’ve reached the northern end of the city, haven’t run into any infected so far.” 

“How’s Oikawa?” Kindaichi asked before Matsukawa had a chance to respond. 

_“Last time we checked with Iwaizumi, he was holding up fine. We gotta hurry before his fever starts getting worse though.”_

_“If there’s nothing useful there, “_ This was Hanamaki speaking, _“Turn around and get back to camp. There’s too many undead crawling around, can’t risk you guys running into the herd we left behind. We’re leaving this place first thing in the morning. Get all the rest you can take.”_

“But shouldn’t we come and help you guys?” Watari sounded unsure, lines of concern stretched across his forehead, “Isn’t it risky to go in just the two of you?” 

_“It’ll take too long until you’re here. We’re all the way down south.”_ The sound of a lighter went off as Matsukawa inhaled a long drag from his cigarette, _“We’ll be fine, don’t worry about us.”_

_“Yeah, leave the worrying to us old folks.”_

“Alright, if you say so…” He didn’t look one bit convinced, but knew when to stop fighting a battle he had already lost. 

“There’s a police station nearby,” Yahaba mentioned, raising his voice an octave when he saw the others getting ready to interject, “We might check it out just in case there’s something we can take with us.” 

“Yahaba- “ Kunimi opened his lips to protest, but his words were cut off when Matsukawa spoke up again, 

_“Sounds like a good idea. We’re running low on ammo over here; had to shoot our way through a few of them. By the time we’re back, we might have nothing left.”_

Kindaichi gave everyone a look of smug satisfaction as everyone shook their heads in exasperation at them, but it was Kyōtani who had the last word, “Alright, stay safe out there. See you back at camp.” 

_“Yeah, stay safe.”_

_“’Til later!”_

Yahaba stashed the radio back into the holster of his pants, and they took off further north towards the abandoned police station with the hope of finding the one thing that had saved their asses more than once from extinction. 

* * *

“I don’t like this.” Matsukawa said as he held up the fence he had crawled under, keeping his eyes focused and steady on the road until Hanamaki was beside him with a playful grin. 

“What? The oily hair, the dirty ass clothing or the fact that none of us has gotten laid in forever?” 

He rolled his eyes and slid the dagger out of his belt, trudging towards the back entrance of the pharmacy quietly. With a flick of his finger, he motioned the other to secure the front entrance. 

Under any other circumstances, Hanamaki would retort and poke his tongue out teasingly, but this time he only nodded and unsheathed the sword he had found during one of their many raids. Matsukawa shut the sound of his radio off, just in case, and slowly opened the door to peek inside. 

The creak that resounded from this tiny movement could be heard throughout the abandoned alley like a gunshot in an empty room and he clenched his teeth and cursed inwardly, praying to whatever god had given them this hell that there was no one inside. 

His throat was parched like a rainless desert, and his heart was clinging onto his ribcage when he leaned his head inside, taking in the sight of countless shelfs toppled over, empty boxes strewn all over the floor. He held onto his weapon tighter, holding in his breath with the first step he took inside, his body tense and loose at the same time, ready to attack; ready to kill. 

The stench of withered bones reached his nose and he had to try very hard to not retch the entire contents of his stomach right then and there. A few feet ahead of him, Hanamaki had entered through the front door, his brows furrowed as he analyzed his part of the pharmacy. 

They were quick and nimble on their feet, soundlessly moving along the corridors and the chaotically rearranged shelves until they stood facing each other, their hands planted firmly on their hips. 

“Empty here too, huh?” 

“I don’t like this one bit, Makki.” 

“Yeah, oily hair and non-existent sex life aside; where the hell are the infected?” 

“I have a bad feeling about this…” Matsukawa moved towards the counter to check the shelf behind it, his nails digging inside the abundance of moss growing over it. He tore it open with an earth-shattering rattle; Hanamaki swirled towards each door with his weapon in his hand, his own heart ready to explode in the pit of his chest from the suspense. 

“It’s weird. On our way here we run across a herd, face off dozens of those fuckers and now this place is deserted? Not a single fucking undead in sight?” He scratched his stubble thoughtfully, closing his eyes, “And the guys mentioned they hadn’t walked into any of them either?” 

“What are you trying to insinuate, Makki? Just get your ass over here and be useful for a minute- “ 

“Excuse me? When have I not been useful- “ 

“ _Grreeegghhhhh._ ” 

“Shit- “ 

“Fuck- “ 

Hanamaki was at Matsukawa’s side in an instant, piercing the skull of the zombie with the tip of his blade swiftly. A crunch resounded in the room as he cut through the bone, crimson crawling its way down the smooth blade. The dead body fell with a thud, and with another swing, Hanamaki rid the sword of the blood before checking on his friend. 

“I’m fine- Just- Thanks…” 

“Let’s find this stupid medicine and get back to Shittykawa. He must be whining Iwaizumi’s ear off at this point.” 

This earned him a deep chuckle from Matsukawa, the dead zombie beside their feet forgotten. He filled the bag with whatever was left in the cabinet, giving the other an unimpressed look, “I don’t know what’s worse – a literal zombie apocalypse or Oikawa with a fever?” 

“Is what Iwaizumi probably thinks right now.” 

They snickered into their palms like two little children scheming how to take over the world, with the last remaining bits of sunlight filtering through the opening of the front door. 

And for a minute Hanamaki and Matsukawa forgot that the world was filled with monsters waiting to rip into their throats with their disgusting rotten teeth and their long yellow fingernails. 

* * *

“So… This is the end?” Oikawa asked weakly, his exhale broken by a fit of coughs. He drew his hand from his lips to inspect the droplets of ruby trickling down his palm, his lungs burning like wildfire inside his frozen chest. 

Iwaizumi remained silent beside him, his olive eyes cast solemnly on the ground. Nothing he said would have made the situation any less painful or any less real. The insistent thudding against the door grew louder with each second, the drawn out growls traveling through the wood and into the room they had locked themselves into. 

“How many do you reckon are outside?” 

“Don’t know. Stopped counting after the fifth…” 

“And how many bullets do we have left now?” 

Iwaizumi checked the magazine and clicked it shut with hardened features, “Three.” 

Oikawa let out a humorless laugh, wincing when a piercing ache shot through his chest, “So it really is the end, huh?” 

“We might still have a chance. If the others come in time- “ 

“They will find the herd right out that door, Iwa.” Another set of awful coughs hacked through his lungs, rendering him incapable of speaking. 

“You shouldn’t overexert yourself like that, you’re still sick.” Iwaizumi placed a cool hand on his forehead, his eyes softening when Oikawa sighed at the pleasant feeling. 

“Does it really matter?” He asked with his eyes closed, his voice a mere whisper. His heart seemed to get tighter with each word he spoke, its strings constricting around his throat when the gravity of their situation sunk in, “It’s too late. We’re still going to die in this room.” 

“Oi- “ 

“There’s no scenario in which we survive.” His words carried a tone of finality, leaving no room for arguments, “Either by our hand, or by those disgusting pieces of shits.” He reached over to trace his shaking fingers over the hilt of the metal, “And I’d much rather go like this.” 

They didn’t speak for a while, the only sound in the bedroom being that of the crying zombies, their nails scratching along the surface of the mahogany door. It wouldn’t be long until the weight of them would topple down the door, like they had seen happen many times before. 

Only this time, they had nowhere left to run and with Oikawa’s quickly worsening condition, no strength left to fight. 

“We made it this far…” Oikawa started, his eyes glistening as a cold breeze swept through them, “I wanted to see our Mad Dog beat you at arm wrestling at least once,” a silent tear dropped at the corner of his lifted lips, a sad and defeated smile decorating his pained face. 

“I wanted to make fun of Tobio when we returned back to our safe zone, where everyone was waiting for us…” Iwaizumi listened intently to the words of his best friend, his own vision blurry and his chest aching in spasms at the thought of their impending doom. 

Was there really no way to get out of this? 

He looked around the room, took in the state of the dust covered bed, green moss having invaded even the smallest corners. The bedroom had turned into a tiny forest, with rats and tiny insects crawling about. 

The whimpering sobs from Oikawa prompted his arms to move purely on instinct, wrapping securely around the others shoulders to press him against his warm chest. 

“Iwa…” Oikawa shook between his arms, his tears and snot staining the front of his shirt as another round of blood filled coughs broke from him, “I’m scared…” 

“Me too.” Iwaizumi confessed, his eyes blown wide as the fear finally set in the depths of his bones, coursing through his blood to accompany his rapidly beating heart, “I don’t want to die. Not yet… Not like this…” 

They both cried in unison, their hiccups swallowed by the creaking of the door as one hand burst through the wood to reveal slimy, yellow nails poking out. The moans gradually increased in volume, feeding the dark shadow inside their stomachs to expand into their desperate lungs, making it difficult to breathe. 

Oikawa looked up in panic and grabbed Iwaizumi’s wrist in a deadly tight grip, his voice oddly calm in spite of the situation they were in, “We have no other choice.” 

The latter took a deep breath to calm his nerves as much as he could, before he cupped his best friend’s cheek, a sudden wave of affecting taking over him. 

It wasn’t Oikawa with a deadly fever in his arms right now – it was the tiny little boy with the cheeky grin, who had jumped into his arms in joy when Iwaizumi had spiked his first toss. 

It was the one steady constant in his life that had followed him for years like the sun, brightening his every room and nestling inside the crevice of his heart as a permanent resident; even during unthinkable events such as the world going down the drain and the dead awakening. 

“Iwa?” Oikawa asked meekly after a while, confused at the switch in atmosphere until he tugged at his shirt weakly, “They’re coming in… _Please. I don’t want us to be like them._ ” 

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi muttered, his voice one of utter and brutal defeat. There was no color to it, no bite, no emotion. It was dead, like they would be soon; like the world had been for the past five years. 

However there was no stopping the salty lake that dripped from his bloodshot eyes, not when this would be the last time he’d get to smell the familiarity of home and comfort, a scent so uniquely Oikawa, no description in the world would do it justice. 

The man in question curled deeper inside his broad chest, nuzzling his ear right above his heart and closing his eyes, “Thank you for always being by my side.” 

Iwaizumi tightened his arm around Oikawa’s waist, biting painfully on his lower lip until he drew blood, his mind curdling with the terrifying understanding of what he was about to do. 

With relentlessly shaky limbs, he lifted his other hand and pressed the cold muzzle against his best friend's burning temple, his heart dropping to the tips of his frozen toes, “…Yeah.” 


End file.
